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I have special gifts, but I'm misunderstood (It’s whispered I’m mad as a hatter). That's because, when I choose, I'm a wisp of smoke; A thin tendril of tenuous matter. Sometimes, I'm a two dimensional plane, Like a steam-rollered cat, only flatter. I can be a glass sphere, full of poisonous gas, Contemplating a reason to shatter, Or a hot detonator on a hydrogen warhead (Think lit cherry bomb—only fatter). Today, I'm the link between monkey and man, I don’t know if I’ll talk or I’ll chatter. I just know that I’m special, very special, indeed, Because when I show up—people scatter.
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC
The Mind's Eye of the Beholder
I have special gifts, but I'm misunderstood (It’s whispered I’m mad as a hatter). That's because, when I choose, I'm a wisp of smoke; A thin tendril of tenuous matter. Sometimes, I'm a two dimensional plane, Like a steam-rollered cat, only flatter. I can be a glass sphere, full of poisonous gas, Contemplating a reason to shatter, Or a hot detonator on a hydrogen warhead (Think lit cherry bomb—only fatter). Today, I'm the link between monkey and man, I don’t know if I’ll talk or I’ll chatter. I just know that I’m special, very special, indeed, Because when I show up—people scatter.
jesse-r-anderson
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC
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